


run me through

by Elvarya85



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, So yeah, and phil is taking none of his shit, but it's mostly fluff, clint is a self-blaming asshole, i blame jade, past canon mind control, shieldhusbands, shooting people with arrows, this started out as a really angsty idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvarya85/pseuds/Elvarya85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knew there would be any lasting affects of the orders. No one knew Clint had ingrained some of Loki's orders so well. Not until Phil was on the ground, lying in a growing pool of his own blood, and all he could think was one thing.</p><p>"Clint's never getting out of medical early again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	run me through

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is sort of inspired by an RP I was doing on tumblr. In that RP, Clint was under Loki's mind control and fighting against it and he ordered Clint to shoot Phil in the eye. I had the thought of, what if a lot of those orders became sort of, ingrained and subconscious? That's pretty much what was supposed to happen here. It's set shortly after Avengers, and Phil is alive. Just accept that. Phil's alive. He went after Clint instead of Loki.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, so please forgive my mistakes :3

Laying on the floor, blood pouring from the arrow wound in his shoulder, Phil had to admit that it was probably his fault he was in this situation. 

It wasn’t _entirely_ his fault, granted.

But as he gasped and tried to remain conscious against the blood-loss, aware of medics  kneeling over him putting pressure on the wound, he heard the cries of his beautiful archer, restrained by several agents nearby, he promised himself that he’d never let Clint out of medical early again.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t anywhere near life-threatening, and he was going to take that as a sign of Clint’s influence over Loki’s, instead of calling it luck, as several doctors and more than a few nurses had done. 

They removed the arrow and told him that it’d be a while before he was back to one hundred percent (and he was infinitely glad he could shoot with one hand, because he’d be going through physical therapy for quite a while to fully repair his shoulder). It took two days for them to release him from the medical ward. It took another fifteen minutes in Fury’s office to get in to see Clint, in which time he attempted to sweet talk the Director but quickly descended into bribes and promises. The final agreement was that he would be granted access to see Clint - as long as Clint was still locked in a cell - in exchange for a month running hand-to-hand training for the baby agents. Besides Natasha, he was the best hand-to-hand expert SHIELD had, but both of them refused to run training anymore after being forced to break up one-too-many fights between cocky probies hyped up on endorphins from sparring and Redbull. 

Clint was laying down on the cot in the cell, arm over his face, when Phil walked into the room. He looked almost normal - his suit was Navy blue and tailored to cut perfectly over his form. He knew that it accentuated his shoulders and slimmed his hips. He also knew that, as little as Clint really knew about suits, this was the archer’s favorite.

Over the suit, he was wearing a garish red sling. It wasn’t so much to keep his arm in a set position as it was intended to remind him not to move his arm. It needed as little disturbance as possible to heal. He hated the thing, hated how it drew so much attention to the injury, when he’d really rather forget about it as soon as possible and get his lover back home. But another part of his and Fury’s agreement was that he had to follow doctor’s orders, to the letter, so he wore it.

“I’m not hungry,” Clint said when he heard the footsteps entering. “So you can quit wasting your time by bringing me meals.” Phil realized that Clint had evidently mistaken him for a guard.

“I’m not here to bring you food, babe,” he said, voice smooth and even, the same hard facade of Agent Coulson firmly in place over the softer, anxious interior, wondering if Clint even wanted to see him, worrying that Loki’s orders had become so ingrained that Clint couldn’t even want him anymore. 

Phil wanted nothing more than to get back to normal.

Clint pulled his arm away sharply and looked up, hesitating when he saw who was standing there. “Oh...hi, Phil. Um, what are you doing here?”

Phil walked over to the glass, looking at him and arching an eyebrow. “Adopting a puppy. What the hell do you think I’m doing here?”

Clint cringed, unable to look Phil in the eye. His gaze focused on the sling, unable to look away from the thing.

“Here to make it official, then?”

“Official?”

“You’re breaking up with me,” Clint said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’d been waiting two days for this very visit.

“Why would I do that?” Phil demanded.

Clint looked up at him in shock. “Because I tried to kill you? I put an arrow in you, Phil. Or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget,” he said. “I just don’t plan on leaving you because some asshole fucked with your brain.”

Clint glanced up to meet his eyes when Phil swore, knowing that he was showing himself through a crack in his usual facade. Agent Coulson never swore and hardly ever even raised his voice; Phil swore like a sailor. 

“You nearly died, Phil. I’m...I’m not safe for you to be around. I can’t even save you from myself, can I?” Clint hung his head miserably, feeling entirely useless.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Phil insisted. “I know you. And you missed.”

“Wha-” Clint cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, I missed? Hit you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and you managed to miss anything vital. Did some muscle damage, but it’ll heal. If you’d intended to kill me, I don’t doubt that I’d be dead right now. I mean, I’m not happy that I’m stuck in this stupid sling, but I’m alive, and that counts for something.”

“Or maybe you’re just lucky. Maybe you moved at just the right time?”

“Or maybe you’re better than you think,” he said. He pressed his hand to the glass, spreading his fingers. “Please don’t blame yourself for what happened, Clint. No one could have known there would be any lasting affects of Loki’s control.”

“Well, now we know,” he said. “So you might as well keep my locked up in here. It’s safer for everyone.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Phil, I’m dangerous!”

“So am I! So are Natasha and Rogers and Banner and every other agent I can think of. That’s why you’re here. Every single person in this building could probably kill you with at least one thing from any given room. We hired you because you’re dangerous.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Clint insisted. “They have free will. They can choose who to hurt, who to kill. I...I can’t. I couldn’t even stop myself from trying to kill _you_. God, Phil, I’m so sorry...” He hid his face in his hands.

“Stop apologizing already!” Phil said, voice rising sharply. “It wasn’t you, you hear me? It was Loki. And we have a plan.”

Clint looked up at that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re going to stay in this cell until we know you’re safe. SHIELD is going to find the best shrink we can to do a full psych eval. We’re going to run every possible test on that pretty little head of yours. And we’re going to do that until we know for sure that you’re safe. Then I’m taking you back home and we’re celebrating our victory over Loki properly. Do I make myself clear, Agent Barton?”

Clint was quiet for a moment, then nodded, but Phil’s words seemed to have put him slightly at ease. “Yeah, Phil. You’re clear.”

Phil’s stern expression broke into a soft smile. “Get over here.” Clint did as he was told, standing and walking over to him.”You don’t look good. Have you been eating at all?” Clint shook his head. “You need to eat, Clint. Don’t punish yourself for what happened. I don’t blame you, so you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Clint nodded. “Promise me you’ll eat?” He nodded again. “And try to sleep?” Another nod. “Good.”

Clint bit his bottom lip. “I...I love you, Phil.”

“I love you, too, Clint. So get better, alright? Get better and come on home to me.”

~*~

It took ten days for all the tests to be run, for the results to be compared to scans run before the incident with the acquaintance of an arrow and Phil’s shoulder, but after ten days, ten agonizing days in which Clint was poked and prodded and even though he got to see Phil whenever he was in his cell - because Phil had taken to sitting in there and doing his paperwork so that he could be near Clint - he never got to touch Phil, not even a brush of hands or a twining of fingers. It was painfully frustrating.

But on the tenth day, he was awakened by the sound of his cell door opening. He ignored it until a familiar body was pressing along the length of his and familiar arms were wrapping around his middle and familiar lips were placing loving kisses along his jaw.

Clint felt like he could breathe again for the first time since before the invasion and he immediately gathered Phil up in his arms, squeezing him tightly and kissing him square on the lips, sighing contentedly.

“Hey,” Clint murmured when he finally pulled out of the kiss. 

Phil chuckled. “Hey, yourself. Doctors gave you a clean bill of mental health today. You’re free to leave, and I’ve taken the rest of the day off.”

Clint laughed. “What’d you have to promise Fury for that?”

“You don’t even want to know. But I swear it’ll be well worth it after what I have planned for us tonight. And the rest of today as a whole, really.”

Clint kissed him again, humming contentedly. “Sounds wonderful.”


End file.
